Page 13 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

"Oh," I blush, I shake my head, "I don't think.

.." but then I see their brows furrowed in confusion. It’s then I remember I'm supposed to be a blushing bride.

I'm supposed to be wanting to fuck my husband, have him tear my panties off with his teeth.

To be ravaged in a manner so unholy it would make my ancestors recoil and clutch their pearls…

or be very, very proud of me. I hold in my shudder.

Not even at the thought of Maksim touching me - but being touched in general.

Could I ever withstand his touch? Could I train my mind to like it, like I’ve trained myself over these last two years?

I can listen to loud music now, as long as it’s in my earbuds and not reverberating all around me.

"Yes," I grin, "every color you have. Be daring. Have fun with this, Madam Auclair. Design to your heart's content."

Madam Auclair gasps in exhilaration. I've made her day. Maybe her whole month.

I won't ever wear whatever skimpy threads she designs.

But that doesn't matter.

It's just money.

The whole reason I'm in this mess.

I keep my mind on that, not on the hives that begin appearing along my skin every time Sophie, Auclair's assistant, touches me.

I wonder, for a very long while, if I would be happier had I been born without money.

If I had to fight tooth and nail to be where I am professionally, to have to live with a roommate or several, instead of already owning a mansion at the age of eighteen.

I wonder if... that night would have still happened to me. ..

When my eyes finally focus again, a half-started dress with a corset is being shoved at me to try on .

So, I do. I undress and Sophie, Auclair’s assistant, helps me tie it in the back, I come out and a tiara is placed atop my head with a veil attached. I remember the statistics.

The answer is: I would be miserable. And yes, that most likely would have still happened to me.

I smile wide, so wide my cheeks hurt, as jewels are placed on me. My hair is lifted, showcasing my neck, the women coo and aww and ohhhh, but all I can see is what I've allowed myself to become - a shell of the woman I used to be, sheltered in diamonds and gold.

I hate the woman staring back at me.

I think of Raven at this moment for some reason.

I swear I can feel her with me, like I've manifested her, a silent resilient presence looming in the back of the room, telling me to hold on just a little longer.

.. and so my smile hurts, my stomach is churning, and the corset is too tight, and my hands tremble, and I smile through it all.

I bear the weight of the gold and the diamonds, and the finest fabrics money can buy because, who am I to complain about the life I've been given?

Look at what my best friend went through. Her trauma was more severe than mine, and not only did she stand tall at the end, but she took the life of one of the men who hurt her.

So I smile as I hear Madam Auclair apologize to my mother that the cost of fabric will be more due to my... curves.

A size fourteen.

Up from a size four in just two-and-a-half years.No easy feat, I assure you.

Where I'm considered mid-size in the US, here I'm considered plus-size.

Which is just bogus.

My mind drifts to the recipe I found for chocolate cupcakes with a decadent raspberry cream cheese frosting.

I let myself mentally go to my kitchen in my home, and prepare the ingredients, taking them from their place in my pantry, setting them on my counter and soon I'm imagining myself mixing them all together.

But that's what got me here in the first place.

Losing myself to baking.

The art of it.

The science behind it.

Perfecting one recipe after the other, my home gym collecting dust as I did so.

That needs to change.

Twenty thousand "non-refundable deposit" pounds, which is only a fourth of what I'll be paying total for my two dresses and my... undergarments, and lunch at a quiet bistro later, Parker is driving us back to Kensington.

Staring out the window at all the snow-covered everything, I wonder if he ever gets bored being my bodyguard.

But then I remember: Mum has lined his pockets.

Not to mention his Christmas bonuses, free meals (and uniforms) and the fact he pretty much lives with me.

All the petrol in every and any vehicle he drives me around in is also paid by us, including vacations.

So what does he do with the money? I know he’s taken care of his siblings, mostly his baby sister, Rory, but what else? Is he hoarding it like a dragon?

He hasn't asked for a night off ever.

He also hasn't taken a vacation in over two years.

Not since...

I tense, my eyes darting to find his mix-matched ones already staring at me in the rearview mirror. A scarred, dark blond brow hitches as if to ask me if I'm okay, if today was too much. I find myself giving him a curt nod, ignoring the way the pinker parts of me felt his stare.

Was he thinking of that night, too?

I haven't dared to ask how I came home that night, but the snippets I do remember all point to being in Kane's front leather seat.

When I refused to get into a vehicle with leather seats, then went into full panic attack the first time Parker practically forced me into one, he made sure any future vehicles only had suede or.

.. whatever other material they put on car seats.

Does he know?

Does he pity me?

Is that why he hasn't taken a holiday?

The SUV comes to a stop, Parker steps out to open the door for Mother first, then helps me down, holding one gloved hand.

The warmth is there, always there when he touches me, even through the gloves.

I ignore that feeling as my eyes catch the flutter of the blinds in the upstairs window, opening briefly then snapping closed.

I sigh in contempt.

Great.

I get to ride with Growly McGrumpertons on the flight home.

By the time I get into the house, he’s already waiting for me at the base of the stairs, glaring in my direction. “Have fun?”

“We did, thank you.” I bite out through my smile.

I’m going to need Botox soon.